


Decay

by SnarkyReaper



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Death needs a lot of therapy and love, Drama, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, Trauma, just a lot of pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkyReaper/pseuds/SnarkyReaper
Summary: Death struggles with his past as he revisits old ruins that hold a psychological torture for him.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Whole

**Author's Note:**

> I've imported this from my account on fanfiction.net (un: SarcasticReaper), I've pretty much left FF for AO3. I plan to make new Darksiders fics, and host them here.
> 
> I made this fic when I was in high school (for context, I just graduated college in May lol), but this story still holds a place in my heart.
> 
> I'm probably going to end up tweaking it; editing parts, fixing any grammatical errors, and I'm definitely going to fix the tense. But for now, please enjoy!

**Whole**

* * *

_And I watch the birds, as they fell out of the sky, into the hands of decay. I wish there was a way for you..._

_Houses-Beginnings_

* * *

My horse had been trotting along for a long while in this vast green field, trees sporadically rooted in place like living pillars, their veins digging into the skin of the world. I was nearing the destination quite slowly, but this quest is not an assignment, it was a personal endeavor, a destination for "training", if you will. There is an old abandoned castle that can be found by following a specific path from the plains leading somewhere near the mountains, that is where the ruins sleep in a half standing abomination. I go in anger, head aching in rage and annoyance, too many problems to deal with, my head spins as the horse casually gallops away. I am in no hurry, I needn't be, even as anger swells I can contain it in spite of the circumstances upon my arrival. As I rode upon the frail horse, cadavers chased after me, I kicked his sides alerting him to speed up, I retrieved one of my weapons from my side and hacked at any that tried to get remotely close to me. Their bodies were light and went aloft when my weapon violently wedged into their ribcages, some of their limbs had broken off by sheer force, others' bones snapped, I could hear them break. My steed broke into a forced run as more burst up from the ground, their hands ripping grass and burrowing through dirt, I had to be weary that none grabbed my horse, I cannot run from this many cadavers, some will eventually catch up to me. The horse sped up even more to avoid the hands protruding from the ground, I grasped the reins with one hand as my other still held my weapon tightly. As I led my horse, I saw the path to the castle, laden with trees on either side of the dirt road, my mind raced: I had to get rid of these things somehow, they were in one large group not very far behind me. I turned my horse so he would face the crowd of screaming dead, he whinnied in slight fear and I rubbed his neck to signal that things were okay. I raised my hands to the sky as I spoke in spells and incantations, a dark mist emitted from the ground like steam and enveloped the nearing crowd. Suddenly, they all dropped dead, lifelessly falling against the grass, almost all at once, in a semi-simultaneous movement of macabre proportions.

Necromancy was always one of my specialties.

The pathway to the castle was dark, it always was and I liked it like that, the seclusion felt good. Walking on the path felt like stepping into the crossroads of another world, the shade dominated the light; spots of bright sun peeked from behind innumerable amounts of leaves, but that makes it even more beautiful. I took my time, there was no need for me to rush, even as anger hid inside of me, I try to wait and hide my anger, to control my feelings and use them to my advantage, let them burst at the correct time.

Riding in these forests is peaceful, I cherish it, hold it in my mind for as long as I can, even after I've arrived at my destination. I banish Despair and look up at the pitiful building in front of me, falling apart from years of negligence and rot. It was cathedral-like: grand and large in scale, with a haunting apparatus lurking in the underbelly. I knew my way in; coming here has never been pleasant. The place tortures me in a way, but that's why I'm here, to make myself stronger. It's a psychological type of torture: visions of pain and loss, past memories and such. I do not anticipate it, as a matter of fact I despise it, but that also urges me to continue returning.

I open the entrance to a large main hall, there were holes in the walls, broken pieces of ceiling on the floor, blood spattered in various locations like paint. It was dark and foreboding, the darkness fell from the high ceiling like brooding fog, misty and hazily sitting in the dank atmosphere.

All manner of abomination dwell here, from cast out demons to introverted creatures taking up shelter in the ruins, there are always new denizens when I return. These ruins are a vessel for pain, it feeds off of the suffering of others and when you set foot inside, you can feel it. It sucks it from my body, which in turn brings me more pain, those memories are awakened and remembered in vivid detail.

I venture further into the hall, I see one creature with black eyes and no mouth in a corner, hunched over and tearing apart another denizen. It spots me and starts to crawl on all fours, I don't bother with my scythes, as it lunges I grab it by the throat and choke it out. It writhed and flailed until it didn't have any air to breathe, I then threw the corpse aside and continued to walk.

The feeling of desolation washed over me, the ruins has this power over those who enter, I tolerate it even as my body aches from the effect.

The place can be a maze at times, the doors looked similar, and the darkness never let up save for a few places where the walls and ceiling were broken. I walk aimlessly, it's a surreal feeling. I have no destination so I just take it all in.

This place could be my home, I myself, along with my siblings, are cast out and looked down upon like lepers: these disgusting creatures. Yet we somehow, still have purpose. We enforce the balance between angel and demon, yet that task seems so minuscule. I do not think like this all the time, examine my conscience and delve into my thoughts. I feel quite alone, I never ask for aid or guidance personally, and I do not show compassion. But I feel pity for myself; guilt. These thoughts have only ever crossed my mind, but never have I taken much thought to them; I am aware that the ruins have this effect, in fact as I walk, it gets worse with every step I take. Events that I've chosen to bury away rise from their place, it makes me feel sick. I don't want to remember these things, yet I am forced to face it.

Another creature had lunged from the darkness and tackled me to the floor. I growled as it stared me in the face with piercing red eyes and a drooling mouth that was desperate for food. It dug its claws into my left pectoral; it stung as I felt the claws sink through flesh and pain pierced my head. I grabbed its arm and tore it from my body, I then kicked it off of me and rose from the floor. Anger filled my body as the three holes left from the demon spawn's claws throbbed and pulsated as the iron smell of blood permeated through my mask. It was crouched in a limber and watchful position as I unhinged both of my scythes, I had underestimated this creature's strength.

This denizen was a hellspawn, it was almost as tall as I, red eyes, muscular build, jagged teeth and long claws. It growled as it watched my movements. I stood ready for an attack, I moved slowly, it was an approach adequate for a watchful eye, I didn't want to get taken off guard again. I knew it was waiting to pounce once again, as I am waiting to kill it when it does. I move forward suddenly, and as I had hoped, it pounces. Harvester slices off its arm, I felt it go through the bone from the vibrations in the handle. It was swift, and satisfying; it now lays on the floor crying out in pain, I return one scythe to my side as the other, I sink into its chest. It screeches; to silence it, I collapse its chest by stomping on it with a swift movement of my leg. And it goes silent.

I remove the other scythe and return it to my right side, I turn away from the corpse to a column of light and begin to walk to it. I step in the light so I can examine the wound, its still bleeding from all three lacerations, and they were deep. The blood had run down my naked torso to the belt fastened around my pelvis. It was nothing to me, they'll heal over time.

I turned around and out of the light to continue my way through the ruins, and as I pass the corpse, I see something else.

My brother, lying dead where the hellspawn should be.

I am shocked at what I see, War, flat on his back, one arm missing, gash in his chest and collapsed ribs. His eyes are open and staring into the darkness.

I felt my chest tighten up and the wound shoot pain throughout my body, I am shaken. I know this is an illusion, but it had taken me by surprise. My breathing sped up slightly from the thought of killing my brother, being responsible for it, and having to carry that with me. My eyes shoot back to the corpse and he has gone, the hellspawn has returned to its final resting place.

I am finally able to regain myself, I rest my right arm on the wall and place my forehead on my arm.

This is what these ruins are capable of.


	2. Wither

**Wither**

* * *

_I'm holding on as tight as I can, the monotony never seems to end._

_Every day feels the same, every day I think about the place I'd rather be than here._

_I've been here before._

_August Burns Red- Spirit Breaker_

* * *

_"If we had taken Eden, none of this would have happened. Yet you rode against us, slaughtered our flesh, then bound our souls in your amulet!"- Absalom_

* * *

I remember all too well how shaken I was, awash in pain and doubt as I cut them down like trees, like inanimate objects that had no purpose. It has never left my mind. My body bears the scars and was home to the pain and suffering of the Nephilim. Absalom and the rest of my kin, I didn't want to do it, but they brought it upon themselves, choosing to take Eden. That was one of the many forbidden things to us.

I am thrust back into reality, my heart is beating so fast, my head resting on my arm. I feel so much agony coming from the entirety of my body from the wound in my pectoral. Some of the blood had dried, yet when the air hits the exposed flesh I can feel the sting. My anger, it boiled inside of me to the point where I just had to exert it. I yelled out as I punched the wall as hard as I could, I felt my bones shake and the skin and muscle of my arm crawl from the vibration. My wrist was irritated and my fingers were throbbing, yet I felt immune to it, I felt the adrenaline rush through me like a drug, it was stimulating, I felt replenished. But that high was small lived and I could feel the pain full force, slamming into me. The headache was back, the stinging, everything, it all returned and hurt even more than before.

I turn around and see the corpse of the hellspawn, still lying there and beginning to smell. I continue to walk again, but this time a little slower than before, I am tired, already I feel weak, drained of my strength. I push forward anyway.

The grief I harbor is a knife, constantly thrust into my abdomen, leaving cuts and bruises all over me, stabbed into my back and twisted, and it is always with me. There is no greater pain than mental, because it may never leave you. The ruins unveil these events from inside the locked doors of my head and forcing them out, toying with them, gleefully attacking me with a personal hell that was intentionally left alone. And that's only the start of the effect it has, it brings it to life in vivid detail, eviscerating every last painful detail, cutting me open and splaying it out.

The dim halls and shattered windows pass me by, the old age of stained glass and gathering of dust and dirt stayed airborne as the meek sunlight glanced in from the outside. The eerie silence of these halls of grandeur had become nothing but white noise to me, there was nothingness to be heard in these halls.

Yet as I hear the nothingness of air, I do know that I am still not alone. Whether it be my thoughts, or more monstrous cadavers crafted from the hands of the worthless and undying, something is ever present.

I find another room, smaller in size yet dreary and uninviting. I stand in the doorway; half of the room is covered in darkness save for most of the right side, light breaks through and bleeds with shadows through broken walls. I can hear more denizens so I cautiously make my way into the room. There are harsh cackles behind walls of pitch black, taunting and cursing in hissed screams while other inhuman noises emitted from their mouths. I cringe behind my mask, my anger slowly boiling in my chest as they continue to babble on.

" _Ahh yes! The Reaper! The Reaper is here!_ " it was said with glee. As that voice trailed off, another spoke. It was a creaky and damaged voice. " _The Nephilim? Ohhh, the Kinslayer! It has been so long. Yes yes, one of the Council's pets,_ " the disembodied voice stops to laugh, " _Well, it looks like one got off its leash!_ "

" ** _ENOUGH!_** " I bellowed out to the pitiful scum, hiding in the dark. My hands were tightly wrapped around both scythes as I scanned the room for movement, or for a way to draw them out. I know something is present, I can sense it, I'm not hallucinating again.

I closed my eyes.

" _Temper temper!_ " it mockingly cackles.

I sense the wavelength of the voice, open my eyes and thrust Harvester towards the source. This voice now screeches in pain as I can hear the scythe rip through its body, Harvester left my hand in a deadly spinning motion, like an oversized buzz saw. The cracking of bones mixed with grisly sounds of flesh being torn away replaced its voice very quickly. I hold out my empty hand, a telepathic signal for Harvester to return to me; and the entirety of the weapon is caked in blood and bits of flesh. As I lower my weapons the other two beings step further away from the darkness, so far I am able to see eyes peeking out, six pairs of eyes each, moving back and forth slowly.

" _You louse! How dare you slaughter one of us! The Council will not take this lightly!_ " The owner of this distorted voice finally emerged from the shadows. It was a Watcher, as was the curator of the other horrid voice. These, obnoxious, beings were crafted by the Charred Council to keep an eye on occurrences of the realm, and most importantly me and my siblings.

I hate them.

At this point, I am a little more than annoyed. "And, why would I run into the two-or, the three of you here?" If I hadn't been wearing my mask, they would've seen the wide grin slashed upon my face, and thank the makers that I was because after my remark they angrily hovered closer towards me, cursing at me. Each eye out of the twelve put together were squinting with anger, as I just stood there, not caring.

Watchers are no more than pests, rodents created for the purpose to snoop into the business of every being in the realm to alert the Council of any plots threatening them or the equilibrium of Heaven and Hell. Nothing more than messengers, servants. But they are relentless little bastards as well: I remember that one Watcher, Panoptos, I wanted to kill him so much.

Eventually the two of them calmed down. "The Council sent us here."

"Why? There is nothing here of interest here for them."

"Then, why are _you_ here?"

I did not hesitate, I grabbed the Watcher's skull with my right hand, out of my blind anger I slammed its head onto the floor as the other Watcher attempted to attack me. I outstretched my left hand and summoned spectral limbs to apprehend it before it could reach. It tried to break free of the skeletal hands trapping its wrists, but their grips are powerful, locked in place for the most part.

"You're following me."

The Watcher was silent as I felt him tremble beneath my grasp, the Watcher held in the iron clasps of the phantom limbs spoke for his unfortunate brother.

"Of course! Don't think the Council is not aware of your ventures here."

Hmm, I should have figured as much from them. But what are they so afraid of? This is a personal endeavor, and it always has been.

"Leave me." I give them this one chance to not end up like their brother, dead in the shadows.

"No. Not until you tell us what you are doing here!"

"I said, _leave_!"

"Never!"

I raised Harvester and thrust it into the chest of the Watcher on the floor, I lifted the scythe and plunged the hilt into the floor so the Watcher hung from the blade. It yelled as the life drained out from its body.

I slowly walked around the scythe, prowled. Waiting for every single fiber of its being to be dead and gone until it is nothing but a body. I know that the Charred Council will not take kindly to this, but I've faced their force many times before, and this time will be no different. And it is so satisfying to kill a Watcher, because no one cares about them, they are nothing but wasted skin.

Soon its body dangled from the blade, lifeless, blood dripping from the massive gash. The remaining Watcher became infuriated.

"I hope the Council beats you to a pulp! Tears the skin from your flesh and burns your remains! You are the pathetic afterbirth of an entire race! You and your lousy siblings should've died along with the rest of the Nephilim! **I HOPE YOU ROT, REAPER!** "

The sunlight peeking in from the broken pieces of wall disappeared, clouds flowed in front of the light and blocked out the luminescence of the sun.

I felt a pain in my chest when he mentioned the Nephilim, my head pulsed from irritation. I was blinded by anger.

"You fucking whelp!" I grabbed Harvester, flung off the corpse of the deceased Watcher and angrily moved towards the immobilized one, who decided that he didn't want to live anymore by running its mouth.

I summoned my second scythe and sliced both arms clean off of its body. I didn't give it much time to scream as I bashed in its skull.

And all was silent once again.

* * *

_WHAT THE HELL - DID I - DO TO DESERVE - ALL OF THIS?_

_Slipknot - Diluted_

* * *

_It's a battle. Its raging on inside you, and you can't take it. You hate it. No matter how much pain you go through, the battle will never cease. You remember what happened on that day? How you looked them all in the face, your friends, brethren, fellow Nephilim – and killed them. Can you hear their screams? See their faces in that final moment of suffering? Can you still see the aftermath clearly, Death? Corpses stacked on top of each other, hills of decay. Rotting and festering. You even killed the children, Death! The women and the elders as well, no one was off limits, isn't that correct? That's what the Charred Council told you._

_The hills of corpses laden with spears and armor, their faces all contorted into screams, while eyes were wide open. Some faces were closed in slumber, while others were wiped clean off of their skull. Do you remember it Death? Can you see it clearly, where you knelt across from Absalom as corruption overtook his body? The numbness you felt never left you, the scars never healed, and the tears you silently cried never forgotten._

_How many times did you cry on that day alone? You were unstable, afraid, sick to your stomach. You hated yourself and felt like you couldn't continue. You were angry, and still are. And as millennia passed, you dug a hole inside of yourself and buried this memory deep into the darkness. But, go look in the mirror, remove that mask, run your fingers over each and every single scar you have and realize that it isn't truly hidden._

* * *

I – I was afraid. Matter of fact, I was horrified with myself. I couldn't even hold onto the amulet containing their souls, I was so broken.

This massive wave of emotion flowed over me as I found myself back in the dark room surrounded by the cadavers of the two Watchers. I didn't know where to go, I just stood there in the middle of the room, in the darkness with blood coated on my hands. I heard my breathing, it was so clear! I have never heard it so crisply before, and I felt the condensation in my lungs and the air travel out of my mouth. That was the one calming feeling I had before I heard a voice that startled me.

" **DEATH**!"

This was a strong and authoritative call, one of extreme power. It reverberated on the walls as I stood in the dark, fearing it. I know that voice, and its call is not kind, it is a violent bellow for me to reveal myself.

Once again I feel such pain inside of myself, a burning on my stomach and the throbbing in my head. My spine gets a chill, and then I feel something puncture my abdomen. My legs lifted from the floor and I yelled out in agony, I can feel whatever has been thrust inside of me pushing against my bottom ribs. I'm then thrust face to face with the owner of the voice that bellowed my name.

"Once again we meet, _brother_."

Absalom.

He was still bound to corruption, his skin was now pitch dark with the tar- like liquid, and his left arm was hideously deformed. He was still the monster I fought at the well of souls.

I felt the object slide out of my wound, like a large needle, it _slithered_ out. The object was a blade, fashioned from the corruption that overtook him. The wound throbbed violently, my organs jolted inside my body, and then I felt the warmth of blood running down my stomach. Absalom had grasped me by my neck as he removed his weapon and then proceeded to throw me into the stone floor with extreme force.

 _"_ Traitor _."_

Most of the pain went straight to my spine, while the blood from my stomach gushed out from the force of the impact. I grunted and growled from the pain that had overflowed into my body like a disease, a leprosy forcing my bones out of sockets and broke through skin. And I cried out as Absalom stepped on my chest, cracking rib after rib, and he smiled, he laughed, he enjoyed seeing me crumble before him.

I sounded more sickly than in pain, I retched and gagged as I felt blood trying to escape in any way it could from the veins in which it flowed and my breaths were short and rattled. There were ribs that had broken that were dangerously close to puncturing my lungs.

"You are nothing! And you will die as such!"

He finally lifted his boot off my chest. The bottom was soaked in my blood.

Everything was numb as I tried to look up at Absalom, but I had little to no strength to be able to do so.

"I want you to feel the pain we felt when you betrayed us! Every broken bone, crushed organ, and shattered limb. Then after I kill you, I'll leave your fleshy corpse to rot in a puddle of your own blood, and the crows will pick at your remains."

He then picked me up by my throat and removed my mask. "And I want to see your face as you die!"

God the pain! The massive gash in my stomach had started bleeding and as my body dangled in his grasp, every broken rib shot pain into my abdomen. I tried screaming out, but I dare not, my ribs would not allow me that. Instead I gag and growl like a deranged animal as I felt the warm blood in my throat and my mouth.

Absalom threw me into the wall and I landed on the floor on my stomach. The blood in my mouth was splattered across the floor, I couldn't take the pain. I felt paralyzed as I had attempted to drag my body away, I ever so desperately tried to pull my weight, feeling my abdomen slide on the rough concrete floor. I coughed up more blood and felt an awful sting in my chest.

I heard Absalom nearing closer to me, every footstep was a second of life cut away from my body, another beat from my pulse slipping away.

My eyes were flickering out like orange lights, I couldn't even keep them opened.

His footsteps halted. I could sense that he was right in front of me, staring down at my half dead body splayed out in blood.

"Death, you are pitiful, weak. So blinded by the Council's need for balance that you would betray your own brethren!"

I couldn't look at him, even if I had the strength to I still wouldn't be able.

Absalom summoned his axe and I heard him raise it over his head.

"Your death will be satisfying." Those were his final words to me.

"N – No." as I strained to speak those words, blood dripped out of my mouth like saliva, as my head hung and my arms were barely supporting my upper body. I rested my arms once again, they were starting to shake, and there was nothing I could do.

I heard the axe coming down.

"No!" It was painful, but I yelled it out before it came down upon me.

Darkness.

Next thing that happened, I awoke to my screams echoing through the darkness. I was on the floor as I remembered, near the wall, but nothing was there. No scars or sign of injury.

Such a violent hallucination.

I sat up, and removed my mask, which was surprisingly still on my face. I covered my face with one hand as I feel the odd sensation of relief envelop me in the seclusion of shadows.

The pain was so real, I can recall the feeling so clearly yet my body is unscathed, I lower my other hand to my abdomen where I remember the stab wound was, and there was nothing.

Aside from feeling relief, I can feel the wave of emotion in my chest once again, it made me feel sick.

What is happening to me?

As the pain overflows, I am shaken by this place. Everything that happened here flashes in my mind, and weakness breaks through the surface once again.

Out of sheer pain, I broke down. I cried.

* * *

_"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."_

_\- Edgar Allan Poe_

* * *


	3. Waste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HEFTY trigger warning for this chapter, some detailed gore (more so than previous chapters)

**Waste**

* * *

_I picture so much sadness, you've never been truly happy. A body never touched by love, never held in passion, only broken by hands forged for disfigurement and mutilation, and that is how you've lived. Your soul lies cold in the wretched chrysalis of your heart, tainted in blood, steel, and sinew. Hear the faint screams of pain in your head as the temple you harbor, this body your soul has sought shelter in, crumbles. The dying sighs ache in your throat, hiss like steam through your teeth and sting the esophagus. Pins and needles, that's what it's like._

_What does pain feel like to you? Spiteful murder? Torture of the mind? Obedience? The thousands of scars you've collected tell a story:_

_One of hatred._

_One of disgust._

_One of Death._

* * *

_You're a wasted face,_

_You're a sad-eyed lie,_

_You're a holocaust._

_Big Star - Holocaust_

* * *

These emotions were held inside for too long a time. In that moment it was all released, I knelt in he darkness holding my head in my hands as tears streamed down my cheeks. I realize that I am indeed alone in this existence, I start to wonder how one can go on like I have, a concrete body.

I am tense as I calm myself down, I am drained of energy. My mind becomes a little bit clearer and I become more aware; I hear the silence of this spacious room. Once more, that loneliness sinks in. It is time that I take my leave from this place, return to my siblings, but no doubt my torture will not conclude here, the Council will know about this. They're probably waiting for me right now.

I do not know how many times I have returned to this place, but every time, pain is wrought upon me. Sometimes it is deserved, at least I feel that way. I am no fool yet there are always times where I tend to slip up, and in the process, hurt someone close to me or even myself. But, I wonder how I am still sane? How do I function with so much weight to carry, with such a burden upon my shoulders? I should be drained mentally, and broken physically, yet there is no sense upon thinking that I am not broken in some way. I find an exit and immediately after I step out of that wretched hive, my mood changes. An air of relief warms my body, I scan the beautiful landscape around me, and I even found myself looking up to the sky, almost thanking The Creator for giving me the strength to once again weather the ancient ruins.

I've never done that before.

I laugh a bit, holding my pelvis a bit when I felt a strain in my muscle. The pain I feel lingers as I walk away from the hollow structure, joined into the ground as a tree is rooted into place. I whisper incantations under my breath and watch as a portal appears in front of me. Before I step through, I prepare myself once again for the wrath of The Charred Council, knowing full well that they have found out about my presence here. I am not afraid, but I know damn well enough to be wary around them, even through this pain I feel, and the pain and torment I've suffered.

As I step near the portal, my thoughts stop me dead in my tracks. A feeling of dread washed over me as I gazed into the swirling shades of blue in the portal. My hands begin to shake and I cringe behind my mask before removing it and covering my face with my free hand. Tears stream down my cheeks. That dread, that sad feeling passed over me once more, stronger than before, ad I gave in to it. Kneeling in the grass, I compose myself after a few moments; a long silence followed, I heard the wind blowing past me, and the rustling of leaves and grass. I felt hopeless, my journey here felt worthless. I'm still as weak as before. Pathetic.

I looked in front of myself to see the grass swaying in the wind with a blank expression on my face; I felt as if I were weightless as the wind blew past me. I don't want to suffer anymore, but being who I am makes me prone to this torture. I still wonder how I'm sane.

I will admit that as I knelt on the ground, I was afraid.

A moment passed through me where I did not want to face the Charred Council, but I knew that I couldn't avoid this, and I understood that, and accepted it. I got up, took one more calming breath, and stepped into the portal.

* * *

_Every single scar you have is a reminder of the pain. Feel the indentations they make in your flesh and remember that they're staying with you._

_Sometimes you feel cold and alone, the only embrace you feel is that of the constricting nature of guilt. It crushes your ribs, makes it hard to breathe, almost impossible to bear. The sensation of pain is not new to your body or mind, and you've experienced it enough to become unnaturally used to it; even you, Death, you wonder why that feeling does not shock you as much as it used to. You hold your outer appearance so well while you tremble and break inside, both figuratively and literally. You once kept walking even after five of your ribs had collapsed, three ligaments were torn in your leg, and you had a grievous blow to your abdomen that caused internal bleeding. Your legs hardly lifted off the ground, it was hard to breathe, and you barely, just barely, were able to keep your composure. Death, your legs gave out many times and you ended up on the ground, not wanting help from anyone. You resorted to dragging yourself along the ground until you were able to pick your mangled body back up._

_And then you kept walking._

* * *

War was able to tell by the tone of the voices of the three massive effigies that something was amiss.

The air was hot and muggy; extremely humid. Craggy rocks surrounded him and his two other siblings in the Council's lair, they are only ever summoned there when absolutely needed, or if something dire has occurred.

War could tell by the looks on his older siblings' faces that they knew damn well why they were called:

Death left on personal endeavors, ones that were not sanctioned by the Charred Council. Hell, not even the three of them knew why he left, all Death told them was that he would be departing for a short time.

But the Council had not a clue until now, it seems.

The vestibule in which they stood grew hot and the ground rumbled slightly, **"** **YOU THREE KNOW WHY YOU ARE HERE,"**

They knelt in front of the massive effigies.

**"YOUR ELDEST HAS SEEN IT FIT TO RUN OFF WITHOUT OUR CONSENT, WHENEVER HE LIKES. WE KNOW YOU THREE ARE AWARE!"**

"Yes, but Death never specified where he would leave to." Fury spoke for the three of them.

**"BUT YOU HAD KNOWLEDGE! WHY DID YOU KEEP IT FROM US?!"**

There was hesitant silence from the Horsemen. The Charred Council spoke again after the moment of tense stillness.

**"NO MATTER. DEATH IS THE ONE WHO WILL BE PUNISHED FOR HIS DEFIANCE."**

The Council stopped speaking, as if to catch their breath. The fiery glow emitting from their mouths dimmed and then rose again with ferocity and intense heat.

Fury spoke up once more.

"We have no knowledge as to where Death shall make his return. We were told very little."

**"THAT IS WHY WE SUMMONED YOU HERE. WE WERE GIVEN WORD THAT DEATH IS INDEED VENTURING BACK FROM HIS DESTINATION, AND YOU THREE WILL WAIT FOR HIS ARRIVAL."**

They looked shaken and troubled, Strife less than War and Fury. Nevertheless he still felt his nervousness well up in his stomach. He had a silent respect for Death in some situations like this. He both admired and scrutinized his brother's defiant behavior.

* * *

_What is happiness? What does it feel like?_

_I've caught myself asking these questions to my own conscience because there is a real need to know inside of me. Is it warm like the sun? Comforting like a mother to her child? I caution myself from asking because I fear that the answer will be lesser than what I expect. It's my own twisted version of wishful thinking that keeps me aloof to some normalities that I do not care for or tamper with._

_But one can keep an open mind, can't they?_

* * *

It was as I expected when I had arrived. War, Strife, and Fury watched as I walked to the middle of the chamber, facing the three large heads made of rock. Their eyes were blazing orange from the fire burning within, and they silently stared upon my presence. I felt the Council's anger rumble deep in the ground.

**"SO, YOU'VE DECIDED TO MAKE YOUR PRESENCE KNOWN, DEATH?"**

"Yes."

He didn't say another word. Death knew what was coming, and he accepted it. He felt the eyes of his siblings stare holes into his back, and dared not to move for his and their own safety.

War could tell that Death was not as lax as usual, he was severely on edge and as stiff as a board.

 **"WHERE DID YOU RUN OFF TO?"** The three heads bellowed.

Death became slightly annoyed, "I would've thought you'd have known since you sent Watchers to follow me." The annoyance showed through the inflection in his voice.

 **"IT WAS BECAUSE OF THEIR UNTIMELY DEMISE BY YOUR HAND THAT WE WERE UNABLE TO FIND OUT!"** The effigies boomed. The whole cavern trembled and the ground on which the Four Horsemen stood upon shook violently. All four of them staggered and their knees almost buckled under the tremor.

Eventually it ceased and all was silent, save for some falling debris.

War and Fury looked slightly in shock.

**"DO NOT TALK BACK TO US, DEATH!"**

_"I am not a child!"_ Death thought to himself. He wasn't foolish enough to anger the Council any further. The Horseman knew his place and understood the consequences awaiting him.

Death broke his own train of thought, "Apologies." He spoke softly, but loud enough that his words were acknowledged, and he bowed. Death didn't want to bow, but he forced himself to arch and genuflect to his masters.

**"NO SINGLE APOLOGY WILL SUFFICE FOR YOUR DISOBEDIENCE! WE GROW TIRED OF YOUR BEHAVIOR AND CONSTANT NEGLIGENCE OF OUR WISHES AND ORDERS! YOU WILL BE SEVERELY PUNISHED!"**

My stomach twisted into a knot. I anticipated such an outcome, and I've no excuse to fight-

_Dammit!_

All of a sudden I couldn't move my legs and a sharp pain spread through my calves. I tried to lift my feet off of the ground, but before I was able to lift my left foot off of the stony floor I realized that they were covered in a thick layer of rock. Tips of sharpened stone had embedded themselves into my leg to assure The Council that I do not struggle. I couldn't do much else but to stand and take whatever punishment they've planned for me.

The other three Horsemen looked on helplessly.

* * *

**"WAR."**

The youngest shot up his head in annoyance towards the source of the simultaneous booming voices.

**"STEP FORTH."**

He grudgingly obeyed. War stooped up a few small steps to ascend to the level floor directly facing The Charred Council. Death attempted to look over his shoulder so he could see his brother.

"Looks like I'm the one causing trouble now." Death tried to lighten the tense mood. War cracked a small grin at his remark and stood next to his immobilized brother. "I thought you were the oldest." War retorted jokingly.

Death lightly chuckled before looking back down at the ground as if he were a child being scolded by their parents, in utter defeat. The exhaustion and mental strain made him feel abnormally weak.

Without a second thought something forced his arms to outstretch as the shock broke his trance. Stone shackles held his wrists in place, rendering Death completely immobilized. The three effigies spoke in an ancient tongue that none of the four could decipher, and a grey mist emitted from Death's chest.

* * *

It felt as if my life were being sucked out from my chest, like needles attempting to break out of my skin. I've heard The council use these incantations before, I know what they're doing. They're stripping me of power. When my abilities were given to me, it felt like a drug flowing throughout my body. I felt stronger, faster, had more pain tolerance than before.

That feeling was gone.

* * *

War stepped back and watched as Death struggled painfully. He growled in dissatisfaction. _"Such nonsense! Death does not deserve a fate so cruel as this!"_ War thought to himself. A scowl had etched itself on to his lips.

* * *

I am drained of my strength, and so tired. I can feel War's gaze from behind me as well. I fear only the worst in the fact that they want War present. This is my degradation, he does not need to be involved.

* * *

After Death had been stripped of power, he was released from the chains. He fell to his knees wearily after the jagged rocks dislodged from around his legs.

 **"YOU ARE NOT YET FREE TO LEAVE. WE ARE NOT FINISHED WITH YOU."** The fire within The Council's three embodiments flickered wildly, danced, an rose with sporadic movements and undulations. Death, now free of all entrapments, stood near his younger brother with arms folded and a scowl behind his mask. Fury and Strife stood a ways back near the top of the stairs to the platform.

"I have a slight inclination of what The Council is planning." Strife spoke to his sister.

"Yes. I see it too." Fury's concern grew stronger as the moments passed. They felt like millennia to her.

**"WAR."**

He bowed slightly, "Yes?"

**"WE NEED YOU IN ORDER FOR DEATH'S PUNISHMENT TO SUFFICE."**

War furrowed an eyebrow and turned to Death. He could've sworn he saw Death's demeanor waver from timid to anger like a flash of lightning. His exhaustion was not slowing him down.

"What are you talking about?" War's concern was reflected in his own voice. His own anger was slowly beginning to build up.

**"FIGHT YOUR BROTHER, RIGHT HERE. TEST HIS STRENGTH WITHOUT HIS ENHANCED ABILITIES AT HIS SIDE!"**

War growled with rage, "No!"

Death looked at the ground and shook his head in defeat. " _Dammit! Why must my brother share this pain from the results of my disobedience?!"_ He was thinking to himself.

**"BEAT HIM UNTIL HE CANNOT MOVE! THAT IS AN ORDER, OR WOULD YOU LIKE TO BOTH SHARE THE SAME PUNISHMENT?!"**

"I would rather. I will not fight my brother!"

"Do it."

War was shocked. "Death, n-no! I don't want-"

"Look at me, brother!" Death was adamant, "I am bruised and broken already. I knew there would be consequences to my actions, so just please do as The Council orders. I won't have you share my pain."

War's eyes narrowed towards Death, his anger was boiling. The Pale Rider looked unfazed, yet tired, in the wake of War's stubborn denial.

**"WE HAVE TAKEN HIS IMMORTALITY, WAR. YOU WILL DO AS WE COMMAND!"**

"What?! The I will most definitely not fight-"

"DAMMIT WAR, JUST DO IT!" This time it was Death's booming voice that echoed through the caverns. He faced his brother with anger in his eyes.

"War," he paused to take in a sharp breath to calm himself down, "I-I understand that you don't want to hurt me any more than I am already, but - I would rather take more pain than watch you suffer for something I caused."

War looked to the ground, his red hood covering half of his face. His eldest brother placed a hand on his shoulder.

Ash and soot fluttered in the atmosphere like charred snowflakes around all four Horsemen. The rocky cavern rumbled with the life that the Council brought to it with their omnipotent presence. The Red Rider's uncertainty continued to fuel his frustration.

**"THINK BACK TO SUCH PAIN DEATH HAS CAUSED YOU! REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARM? HE CRIPPLED YOU!"**

Death saw War's demeanor change drastically. He looked down at his gauntlet arm and felt the memory resurface. War sneered at the thought and shook Death's hand off his shoulder.

"They're antagonizing War." Strife spoke to his sister with arms folded. Fury shook her head in disapproval, "War's short temper will only make this situation worse."

Death had stayed silent as his youngest brother stared him down.

**"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR WAR?! BEAT HIM WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE!"**

Death felt his stomach turn when The Council said that. War's breath then heightened as a sign of his ever-increasing anger, and the world around him blurred.

Death did not stop his brother.

He flew back and hit the rocky wall. Death yelled in agony, his ability to heal had been depleted by more than he expected. War had thrust him backwards with unimaginable force using the gauntlet arm that now replaces the flesh. His face twisted in rage, knees bent, ready to charge at any moment, and Chaoseater yearned for blood.

**"EXCELLENT."**

The day War lost his arm was one in which still haunts him. The unnerving pain overwhelmed him as the event replayed in his mind, he felt the bone and sinews from his lost limb crack and snap from Harvester's swift blade.

* * *

My mind was numb for a few moments as I struggled to rise from the ground. I can feel the sting of opened flesh on my back and the warmth of blood slowly trickling down my spine. I've not felt such pain from a minuscule blow like that before, The Council has left me vulnerable enough for War to carry out my punishment, to their amusement, it seems. The opened wounds are not healing, those alone may take hours to heal without the full capacity of my near-invulnerability. War is acting on impulse and emotion, his temper is only fueling the aggression and rage he holds from the day I severed his arm. Even in the state I am in, I wasn't planning on making this an easy fight for War. At the same time, this will be no damn picnic either.

* * *

Death cringed behind his mask as he stood in an agile fighting position with his dual scythes at the ready. His back muscles stung from his opened flesh, the exposed wounds burned like hellfire. He growled to suppress the abnormal amount of pain as he adjusted his footing - Death could feel his tampered back muscles begin to tremble.

War had cast all doubts aside: Death will be punished. His agitation now built up to blinding rage, his namesake truly beginning to show.

The younger horseman dashed forward with an inhuman amount of speed, and Death was just able to dodge the blow. The wounded rider then unleashed a flurry of scythe attacks that no being could imitate or escape from, yet War was able to block most of the blows. One cut him on his right hip, and another slashed his pectoral, but the young rider was so enraged that he could not feel the pain from such small injuries. As Death was pulling his weapons away, War grabbed one with his gauntlet arm and violently ripped it from Death's grip. The pull was so furious that War could've torn off his arm.

Death used this moment to his advantage: he plunged his second scythe into War's lower back. War angrily roared out as he threw the weapon in his hand aside. His hand found it's way around Death's neck and was lifted up off the ground, barely catching any oxygen as War tightened his hold. Before he knew it, War had chucked him across the chamber and watched angrily as his eldest brother hit the wall once more, this time with a more violent force than before. War was now becoming animalistic: bereft of any sense of ease or reason, the only emotion incapacitating his mind was that of pure rage.

* * *

The room spun as I fell to the ground again, my strength felt so depleted already, and I've barely fought! I will not degrade myself or my reputation as a warrior. There was no sorcery, no black magic needed to fuel my adrenaline as I lifted myself off that unforgiving terrain and lunged forward at my brother, weaponless. As I charged, I realized that my mask was knocked off from the force of that last blow.

* * *

The eldest Horseman's face, now unmasked, portrayed no falter of emotion as his rage now boiled. Death ran as fast as he could towards War and in his mind timed his move to strike. War attempted to throw his own punch, but Death was fast enough to dodge and land his own hit. He felt a rib or two break when the unforgiving blow made contact with War, yet, The Red Rider only grimaced from the pain. He did not stagger or even give Death enough of an opening to attack once more. War quickly countered with an aggressive kick to his side, repaying the favor almost immediately. The Pale Rider felt something snap, then an indescribable haze of agony rose over him. He fell to his knees, holding the massive blow; the injury at a glance looked harmless enough to the Horseman, but h was bleeding internally, and whatever had been broken had punctured something. Moments later, a well of blood regurgitated from his mouth; Death held his stomach as he retched and fell on his uninjured side, his face contorted into one of pain and shock.

"You worm!"

He kicked his brother in the abdomen. Death spat out blood from the force of the hit, he grit his teeth and let out a painful shriek.

"Get up and fight!"

War kicked him again. This time Death did not yell out in as much agony as before. His mouth hung open from sheer weakness, and his body throbbed.

The young Horseman violently lashed out at his brother several more times, using his armored boot and ramming it into Death's abdomen.

"Please my lords, enough of this!" It was Fury. She yelled from the stairs where she stood next to the usually indifferent Strife. Even he grew concerned.

"Yes, order War to stop, or I will make him stop!" Strife pulled out one of his pistols and stepped forward, but the Council wasn't having it. A large stalagmite burst from the ground and launched the White Rider back a few feet.

"Damn it, this is getting out of hand!" Strife rose and dusted himself off before holstering his weapon in annoyance.

The Council erected bars of solid stone in front of them, still enabling visibility, but blocking passage to the platform.

**"SILENCE, YOU BRATS! DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT WE WILL TAKE ORDERS FROM THE LIKES OF YOU?! YOU OBEY _US_!" **

Both Fury and Strife took offense to the statement but tried their best not to retaliate or show their anger. They stood silently, helplessly, as they were forced to watch their youngest brother torture their eldest. Fury turned to her brother, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." The irritation seeped from Strife's voice like poison.

He returned next to his sister. All they could do was watch.

* * *

_You fade in and out of consciousness. Nothing seems stable, nothing seems to make any sense._

_Can you remember where you are?_

_Do you see your siblings?_

_Can you taste the blood dripping out of your mouth?_

_Are you numb?_

_Can you feel the broken bones in your body, in their unnatural shape?_

_Yes? No?_

_Well, either way, dying isn't so pleasant._

_...Such a waste._

* * *

_All around us,_

_hangs an air of darkest doom,_

_and it flows out my lungs_

_and slowly fills the room._

_I open up my heart and stick my fingers in,_

_But you will never want what I have to give._

_Giles Corey - Blackest Bile_

* * *

I can see myself in a warm bed within my home, listening intently to my heart beating, and counting my breaths. I'm able to notice the smallest details within my surroundings, like the moan of the air outside, blowing against the structure. Or the darkness of the room I lay in, so secluded and peaceful.

The temporal blindness of sleep comforts my haunted mind, a temporary leave from life. All sense is gone as time seemingly falls away from grasp, that is until I awaken.

I slowly come to, realizing that my mind tricked me with false senses of security. I gasp, eyes snapping open, to find myself sprawled out in the warmth of my own blood. A painful throbbing had bombarded my skull as even the smallest movement made the pulsing in my head worse. It was hard to move with such grievous inflictions to my body. I attempted to do so but it brought only more pain. It travelled up my spine and caused me to pant, as it wrought me of my breath.

**"HE HAS AWAKENED."**

I wasn't out for that long, but at least they had the utmost kindness in calling off War so I could at least regain my consciousness.

Not only did they call off War, I raise my head to look in front of me to see that he was chained by the wrists and ankles, similar to how I was immobilized. From the look he was shooting me, I was guessing that he had to be forced off of me, as if to not kill me.

* * *

War didn't care at this point, he was so blinded by rage that all reason had fled his mind. His natural instinct kicked in, to fight relentlessly until he won. He watched Death attempt to rise, multiple times, off of the ground, while showing no pity whatsoever for the eldest. Only disgust.

Death's face was bloody and bruised, his mouth hung open as weak and raspy breaths struggled to escape his injured lungs. The Pale Rider's black hair was in his face and clumped together from his own blood. His hands were shaking violently, and he struggled to keep himself standing.

Fury saw Death and covered her mouth, in shock from what she saw. Strife witnessed her reaction to the scene and attempted to comfort her as she had become visibly upset.

"Sister, please calm down." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Th-"

Strife paused as he realized the painful truth of his words. From behind his helmet he stared in bewilderment as he spoke:

"There is nothing we can do to stop this."

* * *

I felt cold. Not even the warmth of the Council's chambers helped in the slightest.

Consciousness was fading in and out. Somehow I was still standing.

I felt alone.

**"WAR. FINISH THIS."**

Before they released my brother from his bonds, I looked over towards my other two siblings. I saw Fury, looking at me in complete shock from the sight of my broken appearance, and Strife doing the best he could to calm her down. Blood dripped from my gaping mouth, and I could feel more traveling up into my esophagus.

Then, I heard War's chains break.

* * *

His attention was brought back to the Red Rider, who did not hesitate. He rushed at Death with all the speed he could muster as the eldest held his ground. Paying no attention to the pain, he proceeded to lunge at War. It was like his legs were unwilling to cooperate, when he moved, his muscles and tendons shot signals of pain up his protruding spinal cord. As a result, the attempt was futile in his state, War had the upper hand. He knocked Death back a few feet with a violent tackle, the Reaper had first hit the ground and then slid on his back, forcing a strained bellow from his tattered lungs. He was hit so hard that his blood splattered on to War's partially hooded face, and armor.

Death continued to yell out, each outcry weaker than the previous, until he sounded hoarse and growled through gritted and bloody teeth. Tears had welled in his eyes, but Death refused to weep, to show such fragility in the heat of battle. No matter the pain, no matter the suffering. Yet, the Pale Rider's mind was frayed and frazzled, he couldn't think, and he could crumble at any moment.

* * *

_I can't feel anything_

_Numb from the strain; bloodless._

_The hard and jagged ground kissed my wounds with intense heat and stinging, as dirt and rocks punctured further into exposed flesh._

_Oxygen was mixed with blood and bile; I could barely take in breaths._

* * *

The chamber became eerily quiet. A somber haze swept over Strife and Fury, as both were appalled; frozen in utter shock. The female Horseman had fallen to her knees with a hand covering her mouth, but her eyes said it all. They were wide and welled up with tears, yet she was silent as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Fury!" Strife had worry in his voice. He knelt by her, "Don't do this to yourself, you are better than this. Please, sister." She nodded, "I - I know, Strife," she slowly stood back up and looked at her brother, "but seeing Death go through more torment hurts me! You may not realize it, but he cares for us! Death is our oldest sibling, and he may be harsh, but all he has in mind are good intentions!"

Strife cringed behind his helmet. She was right, and he knew it.

"W - War - r!" Death was attempting to sit up, his arms were weak and shaking so much that he could barely hold himself up. He felt his healing ability finally begin to kick in, but with how injured he was and its ability dulled from the Charred Council sapping a majority of its effect from him, he will not fully heal for hours.

"War -War. Pl - please! R - restrain yourself!" Death's head shakily lifted itself off of the floor, and a pool of blood had poured out of his mouth and ran down his chin.

The Red Rider was so eager to deliver a final blow, the rage coursed through his body, adrenaline was pumping through him so much that the pulse was thumping in his head. With that, he reached around and unsheathed Chaoseater, slowly, as if he were enjoying the time consuming pain he wrought upon his brother.

 **"WAR! WE WILL ALLOW YOU THE FINAL BLOW, BUT YOU MUST DO AS YOUR PITIFUL BRETHREN ASKS AND SHOW RESTRAINT. HE IS STILL AN ASSET TO US!"** The Council's voices echoed in unison. War silently acknowledged their request.

His demeanor had calmed slightly with Chaoseater now at the ready. "Brother!" War, yet still infuriated, spoke to Death. He stood only a few feet away as the Pale Rider lay disheveled, dirty, and broken beyond all comprehension. Death could not look up towards his brother, and his mouth was filling with blood that he needed to spit up, lest he wanted to drown himself in it. Nevertheless, War knew he was listening. He neared closer, boots echoing on the stone ground. Death had struggled to turn himself on his stomach, just to be able to get the blood out of his mouth so he could breathe again, but the sound of War's boots combined with his fractured and distorted mind and body had caused Death to panic. His heart rate increased, and he clawed at the ground weakly, to attempt to drag himself further away from his enraged sibling.

"There's no use, Death," War now stood above his oldest brother with an iron grip around Chaooeater's handle, "no more running from your consequences."

"W-War! Pl-lease!" He forced out his words with splatters of blood.

"He's pleading!" Strife thought aloud to himself. Fury was still distraught, but she had managed to calm herself. She was more angered than upset as she had a hand around the gripping of her enchanted whip.

"I will not stand by and watch this any further! Strife, we need to stop this now!"

He nodded silently.

Fury removed the whip from her sash, and it sparked and lit up with a powerful magic. The light shone with an ethereal pink glow as she angrily strode towards the pillars blocking their path. Strife quickly drew his pistols and joined his sister in attempting to break the makeshift wall. Fury's whip was able to lengthen itself and wrap around the large stalagmites, but the hard part for her was being able to break them. She could not use her strength to accomplish this, so she tried casting spells, using her whip as a vessel for the enchantments to flow through. The energy reverberated through the whips handle and travelled up to the large pillar; the stalagmite proceeded to burst into pieces. Unfortunately, Fury's magic was time-consuming to conjure at times, and she was becoming increasingly impatient.

"Strife, I need a little assistance!" He turned towards her after firing multiple shots into a pillar and blowing it into small chunks.

She hated asking for her brother's assistance, but if it must be done then so be it.

 **"YOU TWO ARE SO DETERMINED!"** The three heads of the Charred Council laughed before continuing, **"THE DAMAGE HAS BEEN DONE! THERE IS NO USE IN TRYING, YOU FOOLS!"**

"Please, my lords, call War off!"

**"NO! DEATH MUST BE PUNISHED, EVEN IF THAT MEANS HE WILL BE OUT OF COMMISSION TEMPORARILY! WE STILL HAVE THE THREE OF YOU TO DO OUR BIDDING! HE MUST LEARN THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS DISOBEDIENCE, SO DEATH WILL SUFFER!"**

The two Horsemen quickly broke through the pillars and ran towards their brothers. War had hoisted Death up by the throat and held him off the ground to glare at him.

"War!"

Strife tackled the Red Rider to the stone ground. Death was freed from the strong grip; he gasped weakly for breath after hitting the ground hard and wailing out in agony. Fury rushed to tend to Death as Strife dealt with War.

Chaoseater had fallen from his grip and was out of reach for the Horseman.

"You fool!" War yelled out before kicking Strife off of him. He slid back a few feet; his metal armor creating sparks from the force of the blow.. War quickly rose and moved to grab his weapon.

"You'll be fine, Death. Focus on your breathing." Her eyes stung from tears she held back. Death nodded his head slowly in acknowledgement to Fury, but aside from that small action, he did not respond to anything else she said, whether it was directly to him or indirect. His exposed face looked towards the sky, his bloody mouth hung open as he took in short sharp breaths. The Pale Rider's body trembled; half of him was numb from blood loss. His healing ability had kicked in and was producing more blood, but his wounds were closing at a slower rate than normal, so he still bled.

Fury shot her head up as she heard War approaching quickly, his heavy boots stomping forward. She cracked her whip and it sprung to life with its odd unnatural glow. She stood in front of her injured brother, "War, this stops here and now! I have no problem defying our masters and incapacitating you ignored for this pandemonium to cease!"

"Try as you will, sister." War charged. Fury cracked her whip once more, this time making contact with her brother. The whip was spiked and enchanted; its power twofold. The spikes embedded themselves in the Red Rider's abdomen and coiled around him like a snake. She spoke under her breath quickly, transmitting enchantments through the whip like an electrical wire. The coil tightened around War; his arms stuck by his side, he tried vehemently to free himself until the spikes protruded into his skin and sent shockwaves throughout his body. War let out a ferocious roar of anguish before the rush of adrenaline gave him enough strength to free one hand and yank the whip from his sister's grip. The spikes detached from where they had been forced into his abdomen and the whip's power faded; he began to bleed. He ominously strode towards Fury.

"War this has gone far enough! Cease this child's play!"

He stopped in front of his sister and glanced down at Death, still too injured to move. Breaking his angered trance was the sound of the cocking and loading of a gun; Strife stood behind War with one pistol aimed at him, and his other hand was pressed against his side, holding a wound from his small skirmish with his younger sibling. "It's finished. Give it up, hothead."

War smiled and shook his head, Chaoseater gripped tightly in his left hand. He silently stepped aside from his sister and focused his gaze towards Death. The Pale Rider's face and body were covered in scars and blood; his bony hands lay limp on the stone ground, but simultaneously shook uncontrollably from blood loss and shock. His orange eyes weakly stared at War. "I will not spare you from the consequences of past wrongdoings any further, brother. I respect you immensely, and you suffer silently for your deeds. But that does not suffice." War spoke in a grave tone. "I know my limits, and I would never kill you, but I will use the pain I cause you to teach you a lesson in humility." War bent over and hoisted Death up by the neck. His boots dangled off of the floor, and he writhed in pain beneath his young brother's strong hold. The Reaper's weak hands found their grip on War's arm, as he tried to catch air in his throat.

He raised Chaoseater.

"It's a most valuable lesson, so remember well."

War thrust his weapon through Death's abdomen; he shrieked violently, his muscles tensed up and he grit his teeth as fresh blood seeped out of his mouth. Death continued to scream until he could no longer. He felt his bones rest upon the portion of the massive sword that was left inside his mortal wound, between slabs of flesh and injured organs. War had let go of his throat and let the blade keep him hoisted in the air for a few moments. He watched his brother cry out upon the blade; it unsettled him to see the most feared of the four, become the weakest in this moment.

He lowered Chaoseater so Death's legs could now support his body as best they could, then, gripping the hilt of the blade, War pulled back swiftly. Chaoseater freed itself from the Pale Rider's abdomen with the sickening sound of tearing flesh.

Fury and Strife were frozen in disbelief at the sight; Fury felt her body go numb, and her knees almost buckled. Strife had flinched and an icy feeling overcame him. Death staggered backwards for no more than three seconds, holding the wound as blood overflowed over his hands and dripped on the ground. No sound emitted from his mouth, no pain-stricken cries or throat-tearing screams of agony. All of his strength was depleted.

* * *

_Take me out, and finish this waste of a life._

_Twenty One Pilots - Trapdoor_

* * *

_I have been degraded._

_Used as an example for my siblings, so they could see what will happen if they challenge their superiors as I did._

_I can't feel a goddamn thing, the room is hazy, t-there's a gaping wound run straight through my abdomen. I'm healing ever so slowly._

_I want to scream._

* * *

Death fell to his knees and regurgitated a distressing amount of blood. He was broken down and beaten to a pulp. The Pale Rider, facing all three siblings, looked towards the sky and inhaled quick and shaky breaths. And with his arms limp at his side, Death collapsed. He had fallen forward and lay face down on the ground with blood forming puddles around his body.

War did what he was told, nothing more. He jumped at the opportunity to be able to speak his mind to Death without the repercussions. He was well aware that the Council would not let Death perish from this encounter, but that it would take him longer than usual to recuperate from his injuries.

 **"EXCELLENT, WAR."** The Charred Council finally spoke after their prolonged silence.

 **"WE WILL GRANT DEATH A MINIMAL FRACTION OF HIS INVULNERABILITY SO HIS GRIEVOUS WOUNDS WILL NOT KILL HIM."** They spoke to the three Horsemen, Strife and Fury visibly disturbed. Their sister's face was contorted into one of pain and shock, and a tear had managed to leave her eye and slid down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away so it would not be seen.

**"DEATH!"**

The Horseman was still conscious somehow. They grabbed his attention, and he visibly flinched when they said his name. His breath was sped up, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not pick himself up off of the ground. He was shaking too violently to keep his arms stable.

**"LET THIS BE A WARNING TO YOU. WE ARE YOUR MASTERS, WE HOLD THE REINS. YOU FOLLOW _OUR_ ORDERS! AND YOU MIND YOUR PLACE!"**

The ground rumbled with their final sentence.

**"THE FOUR OF YOU, LEAVE US!"**

Before the fires in the effigies went out, the grey ethereal mist from earlier rose from the cracks within the stone ground and seeped through Death's skin. Some of his regenerative ability was granted back to the Rider.

Strife slowly walked to the other side of the vestibule to retrieve Death's mask as Fury went straight to her eldest brother. She dare not move him by herself, so she waited for Strife to make his way back to her. War stayed back, knowing that the two of them were infuriated with him, he watched reluctantly from afar.

When Strife and Fury hoisted Death up by his arms, he moaned out painfully. His tired face had contorted into an agonized expression. Death's body throbbed, the opened wounds stung from agitated muscle tissue and tendons that had been either separated entirely, or cut on the surface.

"C-can't feel my...m-my legs-s." The Reaper was stuttering and could barely finish the sentence. Strife and Fury slowed down a little and immediately looked at his back, where the wound tore open his flesh. His spine had taken a majority of the damage, blood poured from the gaping wound and his spine was visibly out of alignment. Through the dripping, metallic-smelling blood, both Fury and Strife observed how Death's spine curved slightly to the left, and how disturbingly close it was to snapping in half. They both looked up after being in a small state of shock.

"Let's try not to drag his legs." Their sister spoke in a shaky tone. It pained her to see any of her brothers hurt, but watching Death being mercilessly beaten by War to the point where he himself could have died, gave her the most fleeting amount of agony and helplessness she had ever felt.

"Sister, give me both of his arms." Strife's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She nodded; Strife, as best he could without bringing Death any more pain, hoisted his arms over his shoulders. Death's head rested on his outstretched left shoulder, his jet black hair still the only thing hiding his bloody and bruised face. His feet were a few inches off of the ground as the White Rider marched forward as carefully as he could.

The airy silence haunted their thoughts, the only remnant of noise was their boots hitting the stone ground as they carried their brother out of the Charred Council's domain.

* * *

_The injuries we do and those we suffer are seldom weighed in the same scales._

_\- Aesop_


	4. EPILOGUE: Algor Mortis

**Epilogue: Algor Mortis**

* * *

_Algor - "Coldness"; Mortis - "Of Death"_

* * *

Death's healing ability was slowly becoming stronger over the past few hours. The gash in his chest from Chaoseater had stopped bleeding, the missing skin had started to form together again and close up a good portion of the injury, and his spine had realigned and his nerves were calibrating his ability to feel pain once more. Any little movement sent his body into a flurry of ungodly bouts of aching, stinging, and sharp stabs of punishing agony. His three younger siblings uncomfortably listened to his screams and howls for what seemed like an eternity. But eventually, those screams subsided into violent growls and curses.

Strife and Fury had distanced themselves from War for quite some time, and he didn't stop them, or get on their case about it. He had an unrelenting feeling of remorse for his actions, even though a part of himself was proud. The well-being of his brother outweighed his pride. They all had relocated to Death's home in order to dress his wounds and let him rest. As he became more aware of his surroundings, Death constantly shooed away Strife and Fury as they attempted to stop the bleeding, so his healing could kick in more effectively. They defiantly ignored him to the point where Death had started to become physical; he tried pushing them away, even though he was still shaking quite a bit from blood loss, and even attempted raising his voice with several broken ribs. They just ignored him, knowing that their eldest brother was still not thinking straight.

"D-dammit! Stop!" The wounded Horseman attempted to sit up but Strife held him down. The White Rider had removed his own helm when they arrived at their brother's home. In the moment, he was annoyed with his oldest sibling's struggling. His yellow eyes pierced the air sharply like headlights as he fought against his wounded kin.

"Brother - you need to stop struggling!" Strife held Death tightly by the wrists to keep him down, yet at the same time he didn't want to bring his brother any further harm. "You're in no shape to put up a fight anyway!" He felt the muscles in his brother's arm relax, and heard him let out a shaky, raspy sigh. Strife let go of Death's wrist and watched as it fell limply back by his side.

"Fine. Do as - as you will."

Strife nodded gravely at his reply and rose from the side of his bed to retrieve some bandages, and Fury stepped forward to help him tend to his wounds. His arms were no problem, and they had to move potions of dry, blood-soaked, clumpy hair out of the way in order to patch up his face. Then came the hard part.

"How is your back?" Fury had shown the most concern out of the three for her brother.

"It's still healing, but at least I c-can feel my legs - now." Death cracked a tiny smile towards his sister.

He knew how much she cared not only for him, but for Strife and War as well. Fury, in Death's opinion, is the strongest out of the four of them, since she is surrounded by three brothers who try to protect her constantly, she is trying to prove that she does not need to be sheltered. Death knows that she does not need protecting, but he still does it anyway.

To his content, Fury smiled back. It wasn't the happiest of smiles, but she gave him one nonetheless.

"You care too much, Fury. S-stop worrying." Death spoke in a whisper, as he had exerted too much pressure on his body, his lungs, his muscles, everything, were aching still. His voice trembled and wavered; he wheezed when he inhaled.

Fury shook her head, wondering if Death still wasn't thinking straight. "No, I will worry, Death. The Council has gone too far this time, and do you hear y-"

She froze when she felt Death's hand gently grab her own.

"Stop. There is nothing we can do about the-" The Horseman caught his breath, "the Council, if they feel I have disobeyed them then so be it. They wouldn't dare kill me, I am t - too valuable for them to follow through with their idle threats, and that is all they are."

She smiled and gave out a chuckle. "Are you alright? I'm surprised you're not annoyed with my 'childish behavior'."

"Well, I understand your concern, and the three of us know how much y-you care for us. Right, Strife?

"Yep." He looked towards his sister from across the room with a half-smile.

"You need to relax, I will be fine. And to answer your question," he took another moment to inhale, "I'm just too exhausted to be annoyed at the moment" The two of them laughed at Death's snide remark.

"We'll let you be for a while. Get some rest so your body can mend." Fury spoke once more to Death.

"It's about time, I thought the two of you would never leave."

"Well have fun being unconscious." Strife retorted with a smile. The Pale Rider chuckled at his comeback, and also at Fury smacking him hard on the shoulder.

* * *

Strife shut the door behind them so their brother could be left in peace to rest. Fury walked ahead, quite hurriedly, towards War. The youngest saw her approach in such a manner and knew that she was going to chide him. He stood up from his seat and uncrossed his arms. "Sister I understand your anger. I know what I've d-"

Fury had walked up to the Red Rider and slapped him hard across the face, interrupting him mid-sentence. Strife's eyes widened as he stopped a few feet behind her, and chose to not get involved in this. So much has already been done, so he stayed quiet.

War wasn't fazed by her sudden anger, he hung his head and sighed, letting his white hair and red hood cover a portion of his face.

"You're foolish," Fury whispered it as she closed the distance between War and herself until her face was inches away from his lowered visage. "this is not like you, to blindly lash out at your brethren without a second thought!"

There was a long pause between the violently irate sister and the distraught younger brother.

"Look at me War."

Her tone shook both Strife and War internally. There was no emotion, it was a blank command, and it was very unlike her. He begrudgingly lifted his head to face his infuriated sister, and when he settled his head Fury grabbed his jawline to bring him to her eye-level. Her eyes blazed with an anger so intense that Strife felt it from where he stood a few feet behind them. Their silence unnerved him, so much so that he wanted to speak up, but he was honestly taken off guard by Fury's behavior, and also a little scared of it as well. War kept his composure as best as he could in the face of his sister, whom at this point gripped his jaw so tightly that it felt like it could snap. He suppressed a shudder before she spoke again.

" _Grow up._ "

She let go of War's face and stormed off. He stood upright and watched Fury angrily depart. War's blue eyes shifted to Strife, as if for advice or confirmation. The White Rider shrugged, "Honestly, she isn't wrong brother." He then sauntered off to find his sister. The Red Rider gave out a defeated sigh and sat down.

The remainder of time spent in Death's home was, for lack of a better word, depressing. The Four had separated themselves, Death had been resting for hours in his quarters, War stayed by himself, forced to dwell upon his actions alone, and Strife and Fury had shunned War, Fury more so than The White Rider. Strife didn't want to get caught in the middle, so he tagged along with his sister. Fury had stepped outside in the seemingly gray and barren landscape. Not a sign of life was in her view as the cold air nipped her skin like pestering bugs. Strife was right behind her. He shut the door behind him and the female Horseman turned her head towards him with an agitated look. She was stressed to the point of almost screaming out her frustrations to the Heavens, so having Strife around wasn't really helping her.

"I'm in no mood for your smart mouth." Fury quickly jibed before her brother could get out a word. He shook his head. "I'm not stupid, sister. I'm just making sure you're fine and don't do anything you'll regret, like what could've transpired back inside."

Fury scoffed, "War doesn't have the gall left to try anything else, if he did then I would've strangled that son-of-a-bitch."

Strife widened his eyes and spoke with a wry tone, "I've never seen you so hostile towards your kin before!" He smiled a toothy grin. Fury smiled back, taking some humor out of his statement.

"I've never had reason up until now. You know that, Strife."

"Yes, I know." The White Rider walked up next to his sister with arms crossed, surveying the landscape along with her. He tilted his head with a blank, almost bored-looking expression on his face. "Such a dreary realm. Why does Death choose to live in such a way? He's too much of a cold pessimist."

"He punishes himself."

Strife looked over in Fury's direction when she said that.

"Well, thats a dramatic way of putting it."

"I'm not being dramatic."

There was a pause between the two of them.

"Oh. I see."

Fury's now calm demeanor changed again, but now to one of sadness. The sky had darkened slightly since they stepped outside, the realm's sun forever blocked out by ash and soot. She chose to keep looking ahead instead of at him.

"Death lost a part of himself on the day of the genocide, you know this brother. Afterwards, he had no reason to be happy, no drive to show love, compassion, or any semblance of personal pleasure. Even before, he rarely showed that side of himself, it was at least dormant inside him. Thats gone now, from as far as I can tell."

Strife remembered how Death isolated himself from them after the mass murder of their own people. The three of them mourned their losses as well; grieved and felt remorse but Death, he holed himself up in his quarters for weeks.

The White Rider added to the conversation, "Yeah, I remember. He took it the hardest." Strife shook his head, feeling bad for his oldest brother after he thought back on how much he's gone through, and how he hasn't recovered. He continued on: "Death barely spoke to us for a long while, like he disassociated himself from us - or at least attempted to. It was a very difficult time for him."

Fury nodded. "He never truly healed."

The air was solemn and heavy, the feeling dark and droll. The two Horsemen looked out into the grey abyss-like space. Strife had looked away from his sister for an instant, observing the land with quick glances. As his eyes wandered the landscape, he thought of Death, the pain he bears, the mask he forces himself to don both from his duty as a Horseman and as punishment for his deeds; and how seemingly detached he is. _"That's a hell within itself."_ He thought. His attention then gravitated back towards Fury, whom he saw gazing at the ground in an intense contemplation. He knew that she was still worrying about Death; the White Rider half-smiled with a look of understanding. "Sister, sister, sister. What are we gonna do with you, huh?"

She looked up at her brother.

"Hear me out. Death isn't going to take it well when I tell him you've been moping about because of him. That'll just add on to his mountainous burdens, don't you think?" She smiled at Strife, knowing that, as much as he was joking around, he was being very truthful as well. Death hates it when his siblings worry about him; he finds it distracting, but shakes it off by reminding himself that they are his kin, his flesh and blood. Why _wouldn't_ they worry for his safety?

"I'm sorry. I'm not as sharp as I could be right now. Death would just love to mouth off at me for it too, if he could."

"True, but don't apologize. He may see this as weakness but he understands the pain you're feeling, he even told you that back inside. Also, he's gone through it himself. So have I, And so has War. You've _nothing_ to be sorry for.

The smile on Fury's face was as sincere as she could make it in her current state of mind. She turned and hugged her brother tightly, and he heard her voice tremble.

"Thank you Strife." She couldn't hold in her tears any more. Strife hugged her back.

He couldn't help but let slip a small chuckle, "You're welcome."

* * *

War had no say right now. He was irrelevant, excluded. The Horseman hadn't moved from the chair he sat upon since he arrived at Death's home. Even after Fury clearly portrayed her disdain towards him did he choose to slump backwards into that sorry chair once again. It wasn't like the Red Rider to wallow, but he was pondering too much on the outcome; even though in the beginning, Death told him to listen to the Council, the aftermath was still gnawing away at him. For a while in his unrelenting bout of rage he even felt pride in his actions, but now there was an eerie feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he had seen something ungodly. War felt sick, a very rare sensation to him. He tried to ignore it by thinking to himself.

_"I've not felt so unsure of my actions before. It felt justified at the time, but it wasn't worth it. Death will no doubt have some sort of retaliation once he is healed. Creator only knows what though. Hmph, maybe I should anticipate losing a leg in the near future. I can't really care about what happens to me right now, I worry for the safety of my brother."_

War had sparred with his brothers and sister, but never had he mortally injured one of them. If it were anyone else he wouldn't have batted an eye. But it was Death, his own damn brother. He nearly killed him, and that sent an icy chill down his spine.

War shrouded his eyes with the one hand he still had, in which he had just noticed, was stained with Death's dried blood. The sight of it angered him. His breathing sped up as his rage built, as if to fuel the fire inside him. He slammed his blood-stained, armored hand down on the chair handle and heard a snap. He stood up finally, as War had become fidgety and restless with himself. He at least, with all the goodness left in his heart, chose to see what damage he had done to his eldest's property.

The thing was stronger than he thought. Just a small crack in the handle.

War shook his head and, also quite unlike himself, started to pace around the room slowly. His shrouded head was fixed towards the door to Death's quarters before slowly turning away. "I'd honestly rather be dead right now. Feel like a damn fool." The Red Rider had no will left, no spirit. The color drained from his face as if her were sick. The pain of hurting his brother felt equal to the actual physical anguish he had put him through. "Oh Creator give me strength." The Red Rider spoke under his breath with his hand covering his face once more.

The door opened behind the young Horseman and death emerged, heavily wrapped in blood-stained bandages on his arms, part of his face, and torso; and was still breathing through raspy lungs and Broken ribs. A majority of the gaping wound in his abdomen had healed, since his healing abilities were slowly taking effect once more. War turned around to see his brother with his normal deadpan expression, usually seen through his bone mask, staring back at him. He saw Death's actual face for once, his permanently scarred and tired-looking face. War felt something he hadn't felt in eons at that very moment - he felt upset. The Red Rider shut his eyes for a quick moment, seemingly as a reaction to the alien feeling that overcame him.

"Please don't bre - ak m-"

Death paused to catch his breath. He wheezed when he inhaled.

"-my furniture. I've not the strength to conjure ... s-spells to create more."

War's eyes widened. _"Is he serious?"_ He thought. He wasn't sure if Death _was_ being serious or if he was just trying to make a snide comment. He was so used to the latter that it registered to him as Death's normal vernacular.

War's demeanor then changed. He became annoyed with his brother's lightheartedness.

"Why are you out of bed?! You must rest, you're going to push yourself too hard and e-"

"Quiet." War stopped when he heard the attempted firmed in his eldest's voice. He watched as Death struggled to walk merely a few feet towards him, and War cringed when he heard how obstructed Death's airway was when he attempted to breathe. Death's voice, as a matter of fact, didn't seem like his own. It was still his deep and gravelly growl, but now it was like he could only whisper, or talk softly. Any strain on the lungs brought him pain. When he walked, he limped, quite severely. War thought he was about to fall over, and actually jumped to catch him, yet he never fell. Death made eye contact with him and even rose his eyebrow at his uncharacteristically kind outreach to help him.

Death then attempted to speak once more through his broken chords.

"I - I told Fury this, and n ... now I tell you." The Pale Rider rose his index finger, indicating to War to wait a moment as he stopped to catch his breath. He was then able to continue, a little more clearly as well, "I can hold my own-n."

War looked dumbfounded, and seemingly defeated. "But how can you say that as you stand before me, just barely able to complete sentences, and hobbling on broken bones?! And why would you be telling this to me when I - I am the one who wrought this upon you?!"

Death smiled and shook his head, his jet black locks of hair gently swaying with the small movement; he then placed an unsteady hand on War's gauntlet shoulder and took in a breath to speak:

"Because you're my brother."

* * *

War's whole body went cold, and he felt a severe urge to break down and cry. His expression turned to that of a bewildered adolescent, weakened and surprised. He was stiff from shock; his brother isn't usually like this.

Death struggled to reply, "You understand t - that I'm n-not holding this," He pauses to catch air, "against you." He shot War a soft smile. Death saw the humor in his youngest brother's utter bewilderment in his kindness. He chuckled and proceeded to hold his side in pain where his ribs were still healing.

"I don't ... I don't know what to say, brother."

Death started to limp away from him slowly back to the doorway of his chambers, his breathing was rugged and strained the whole twenty feet he walked, he also denied the help that War offered him, multiple times in fact. When he got to the doorway, he held the frame with one hand while the other was resting upon his injured side. The Pale Rider turned to his young brother with a solemn expression on his face. War was actually able to notice the three distinct scars on his face in that small amount of time, the most visible one was over his right eye. He paid his attention back to Death when he heard his hoarse and damaged voice.

"You n-needen't say anything." Death turned and entered his chambers, "And you s ... shouldn't be sorry either." Then Death shut the door quietly.

War closed his eyes, covered his face with his hand, and a small warm smile had formed on his lips; seemingly hiding his emotion from the world. What Death said honestly touched him, because Death doesn't come out and tell his siblings how much they mean to him every day. One of them would be lucky to see Death, let alone speak to him; so War took that small moment to heart.

"Oh," The young Horseman was able to hear Death's deep voice from within his room.

War saw the door handle turn and watched as his eldest's head peeked out of the doorway. It was almost comical, as if Death were trying to hide behind the doorway; his deadpan expression staring at War.

"I - if you and Fury are going to continue to fight, keep the noise - a-at a minimum. It would _truly_ be appreciated." The Reaper smiled.

_"That wry bastard."_

War smiled back, "I'll see. Now go rest you fool, before your body chooses to cease its function."

As he retreated back into his quarters, Death laughed. Genuinely. It was a throaty laugh, more on the softer side, so he wouldn't strain his chords. But War heard that, and a calming feeling came over him.

_"Thank you, brother."_

* * *

_"I would that my life remain a tear and a smile._

_A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding_

_Of life's secrets and hidden things._

_A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and_

_To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods._

_A tear to untie me with those of broken heart;_

_A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence."_

_\- Khali Gibran: A Tear And A Smile_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember crying after writing this epilogue because Death is a good big brother, he just has very odd ways of showing it. He truly does care about his younger siblings, and clearly would die for them; even though they annoy the shit out of him. But, he cares; after all of the pain he suffered throughout his eons of life, the self-torture, the insurmountable guilt on his shoulders, Death would shield his remaining siblings from any harm, and would rather have his body be marred in the process over theirs.
> 
> When I say Death deserves the world, I mean it.
> 
> Thanks for reading


End file.
